


Crossing Bridges

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Charlie and Ron have never lied to one another, and Ron goes to him because he can't face lying any more.<br/>Warnings: Incest, language, mentions of character abuse.</p><p>A pinch hit at charliefication on Livejournal in 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Bridges

  
** Crossing Bridges **

"Now then... that's not nearly enough..."

Ron begged to differ. His rucksack was so full of tubs of homemade food that he thought he would fall over if she added any more to it, and wondered if she would next suggest stuffing cakes down his trousers, making use of the extra room.

"Mum, I'm sure Charlie will be grateful for what you've given him," he said, trying to remain polite, but he had a feeling he failed when the words came out through his teeth.  
"You've got pies, pasties, cakes, buns, rolls, bread, those Muggle biscuits that he likes that he can't get over there... do you think that's enough?"

What got Ron, he realised, was that she was completely and utterly serious as she looked at him with her eyebrows raised in question.

"It's fine, mum. Honest. He's going to love it."

Sighing, she smiled and stepped up to him. Before he could move, she had framed his face with her small, pudgy hands and pinched his cheeks. "Sure you're going to be okay travelling by yourself?"  
"Mum, I'm twenty-two."  
"But still it's a very long way and you look peaky."  
"Because I didn't sleep all night because _you_ kept coming through the door asking me if I'd remembered to pack extra pants," he pointed out.

Smiling at him indulgently, his mother gave his cheeks a final grapple and then pulled away. "Off with you. Don't want to miss your Portkey after how much the ticket cost."  
"Sure?" He asked, finally smiling. "Don't want to stuff anything up my jumper or down my pants?"  
"I doubt Charlie would touch anything that's been down your pants, dear."

Ron nearly choked at how very wrong she was and thought it was best that he depart, quickly.

"Give my love to dad, yeah?" he asked, shifting the bag on his back and shuffling to the back door.  
"Of course. Be careful."  
"I'll try."  
"Owl when you get there. And remember, I want to know what he's doing, who he's doing it with, and if there's a special man in his life."  
"Bye, mum," Ron said forcefully, pulling open the door and stepping out into the warm summer air.  
"Be good!" she shouted after him.

Ron idled to the boundary fence and felt her eyes on his back, watching him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He vaulted the old wooden barrier with both hands and then turned to wave at her. She was stood at the back door with one hand on her chest and the other raised in goodbye. Ron swallowed away the lump which rose in his throat; the thickness of emotion brought by oncoming separation, only it would be for far longer than he had admitted to his mother.

He waved goodbye once more, and turned into the spot, heading for the Portkey hub in London.

* * *

"It's late," the grumpy warden informed him in broken English.  
"Well, when will it get here?" Charlie tried again, trying not to shiver in response to the rain drops sliding down his neck.

The wizard shrugged and turned his back on him, and Charlie stared at him for a moment before huffing and turning around. The bare little hub was bleakly decorated, only equipped with a few uncomfortable plastic seats and out of date copies of the Romanian Wizarding newspaper. He threw himself down in one of the chairs to wait and kicked his legs out, crossing them at the ankle.

He'd been happy when Ron's owl arrived, asking if he could come and stay at the reserve for a while. It was summer, and they _usually_ had good weather, and Charlie thought it would be good to spend some time with his littlest brother.

_Time. That's a nice way to say 'shag the fuck out of him'._

Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Charlie stared at the floor. Ron had never opted to visit him before, so he was secretly excited to be able to show him his life and his home, to let him meet his friends and see how well he lived. After Percy had been terrorised by a hatchling dragon three years before, none of his family had been to visit him. Charlie wondered if their mother had issued Ron with a fireproof coat before allowing him out of the door.

Chuckling to himself, Charlie looked out of the hub doors to the pouring rain. It was absolutely belting down and the sound was deafening.

_That's what you get for living in the middle of the mountains, mate._

"Five o' clock London!" The warden suddenly barked from nowhere, and Charlie jumped. He sat up in his seat and focused on the arrival point. "Keep back."

Considering he was sitting down, Charlie rolled his eyes at the warning and waited. Nothing happened for a good few seconds and then, out of nowhere, Ron's long form appeared and sprawled face first into the dusty floor of the hub. The frying pan which had been charmed as the Portkey clattered across the room and hit the wall with an even louder clang, and Charlie winced.

"Graceful as ever then," he grunted, struggling out of the seat and then bending down immediately to help Ron to his feet.  
"Fucking things," Ron muttered.

Charlie caught him as he lurched. Ron's arms wrapped around his torso and clung on hard, and his weight sagged as dizziness assaulted him.

"Never got any better with these things then?" he asked dryly, pushing Ron down into the chair he had just vacated and forcing his head down in between his legs.  
"Shut up." Ron groaned pitifully and remained hunched with his face to his knees.  
"Can't believe you were the only one on it... always a bit less bouncy when there are more of you to even out the forces."  
"Nobody else wanted to come to this dump." Ron's face lifted and he smiled weakly.  
"Well hey, in your drama, the rain stopped." Charlie pointed through the window.  
"It's great at home, really warm."  
"It was here until yesterday, think it knew you were coming."  
"Typical."

Ron grunted as he shifted the rucksack from his back. It fell to the floor with an almighty thud and Charlie stared at it.

"Oh Merlin, she sent you off with enough to feed the entire reserve, didn't she?"  
"And then some." Ron reached up and massaged his shoulders. "I thought it was going to choke me when I first took off."  
"Lucky it didn't," Charlie wheezed, heaving the bag onto his own back to give Ron a break.  
"Trying to be a gentleman?" Ron rose to his feet and scrubbed his hands over his face.  
"Trying but never succeeding," Charlie advised.

Ron laughed. "Come on then. I know you're dying to show me how great your life is."  
"Yeah, I kind of am." Charlie grinned at him and then pulled him into a one armed hug. "Great to see you. You look like shit."  
"Thanks," Ron said wryly, and did not pull away.

***

"How much further?" Ron asked through his panting breath.  
"Uh... bit more," Charlie apologised. "I know it's a bit of a hill... but..."  
"But what? Carry me."  
"Fat chance," Charlie laughed, and the sound raced ahead of them and sank into the trees on either side of their path.  
"Did you stick it at the top of a mountain so nobody would come on foot to steal your dragons?" Ron wondered aloud.  
"Part of the reason. Bloody works too, don't often find many blood poachers on foot. Or scale stealers."  
"You'd have to be mental to try and steal scales from a live dragon."  
"Mental or very poor." Charlie shrugged. "We've had both in the past."

They fell into a comfortable silence and Charlie glanced upwards. Their brief respite from the rain looked set to imminently end, and the clouds above were dangerously black.

"Did you bring a coat?" he asked warily, glancing at Ron's thin summer t-shirt.  
"Rolled up waterproof at the bottom of my bag..."

At his statement, a fat raindrop plopped onto Charlie's head and he sighed. "Think you can run up this hill?" he asked.  
"Haha, you're funny. Why?"

At that moment the sky seemed to split in two, and the rain fell as a single sheet over them, thumping onto the woodland floor and soaking in.

"Because it's going to rain," Charlie said smugly, as he pulled up the hood on his coat.  
"Fuck!" Ron cried, as the first wave drenched his t-shirt.  
"Come on."

Charlie snatched up his hand and pulled him into a run, using the strength in his thighs to drag both of them up the incline. He could hear Ron wheezing along behind him and wished he had the breath in his own lungs to make a comment about how being skinny didn't make one fit, an argument they had been having since they were young. He looked over his shoulder and saw Ron's hair plastered to his head, dyed a deeper auburn, and his skin remarkably pale against it.

Kicking up the speed, Charlie didn't listen to Ron's protests. They weren't far from the reserve gate, and his cabin was too near that than he liked.

"It's not far now," he called back. "Just keep going."  
"I feel sick," Ron answered tightly.

Charlie wasn't surprised. The Portkey trip from London made even the hardiest of dragon keepers feel rough, and none of them would have attempted an uphill jog immediately after landing at the hub in Romania.

"I'll never live it down if you catch bloody pneumonia, so move your arse."

They kept on running until, finally, the wrought iron gates came into view at the end of the next stretch and Charlie saw the day guard step out into their path. He slowed to a walk and let go of Ron's hand.

"Alright?" he grinned, approaching the gate. "This is my brother, staying for a couple of days. His name should be on the visitor admission list for today."  
"Is, already looked. Get him in and then I can check his magic over."  
"What?" Ron asked sharply, rubbing raindrops from the end of his long nose.  
"Your magic has to be checked for safety to check you're not going to lose control -the dragons pick up on every tiny little change in the magic around them."  
"Just basic checks," the guard assured him as he opened the gate. "In and quick, it's wet out here."  
"No shit."

Only Charlie heard Ron's low mutter, but it made him smile. He proceeded to watch as a wand was run over Ron's body, hovering around three centimetres from his clothes and skin. As the guard finished scanning, he rubbed his hands together.

"Right, shall we?" he asked Ron.  
"Charlie-"  
"Let's go," Ron said firmly, turning on his heel and starting up the path.  
"What's up?" he asked the guard.  
"Don't let him near the pens," the guard advised, a crease between his brows. "Magic isn't right."  
"Something's wrong with Ron's magic?" Charlie's head whipped round and looked at his brother's retreating back.  
"It's not very strong. Did 'e just come off the Portkey?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"Maybe it's that... but still, better to be safe than sorry."

Charlie nodded and, despite the instant worry which had sprung up in his mind, smiled at the man before following Ron.

"You already seem to know where you're going," he called through the rain, jogging slightly to catch up with Ron.  
"I remember the pictures you showed me when I was eleven," Ron smiled. "I looked at them for hours."  
"Why?" Charlie made a face.  
"Because they were where you were," Ron answered simply. "That's yours."

He nodded at the simple wooden cabin which they were approaching.

"Home," Charlie agreed, grinning at it. "My castle. My palace."  
"If you say so."

Charlie pushed past him to tap his wand at the door lock and it swung open. "Be nice. I don't have to let you in. Fancy staying out here in this?"

A clap of thunder sounded over head and Ron visibly jumped.

"Wimp." Charlie smirked.

Ron shot past him into the small hallway of his cabin and stood there shivering, dripping water onto the old runner which ran the length of the floor. Charlie wriggled out of his coat and hung it up. He turned and walked through to the tiny sitting room and poked his wand at the grate, where flames shot up.

"In here with ye," he called to Ron.

When his lanky brother slouched in, he looked truly tired, and he was shivering.

"C'mere..." he held out his hand, hearing the softness in his tone and letting his stomach sink with his self-control. "Get you out of those."

Ron stood and waited as Charlie seized the hem of his soaked t-shirt and lifted it to his nipples. He put his arms over his head and allowed it to be tugged off his wrists. When he emerged from the neck of the top, Charlie noticed that his eyes were closed and his expression was almost a grimace. It was only when he looked down that Charlie realised _why_.

Over his brother's usually creamy skin, which had taken on a greyish tone, painful looking bruises coated his ribs and stomach.

"Explain. Now," Charlie ground out.  
"There's nothing to say."  
"There's clearly a fucking lot to say!" Charlie gaped. "What happened to you?"  
"Nothing."

Ron made to pull away and Charlie seized his wrist and yanked him close.

"Stop lying to me. You never lie to me, Ron. I'm Charlie, and you're Ron, and we don't lie to one another."  
"The last bloke I was with. He was..."  
"Abusive?" Charlie finished.  
"I was going to say rough," Ron muttered.  
"Rough?"

Charlie pulled back and slammed his fist against the wall of the cabin. The pain in his knuckles was nothing to the anger pounding through his veins. He stepped back towards Ron and grabbed him tightly around the torso, snatching up a handful of his hair in his fist and yanking his head back.

" _That's_ rough. Not leaving bruises. What did he do to you?"  
"We were just arguing... and it got out of hand."  
"You'd better not still be seeing him."  
"I'm not," Ron said shakily, his head still pulled back with the force of Charlie's grip. "Not now."  
"How long?"  
"Since Monday."  
"The day you sent your owl."  
"Yeah."  
"When did he do this?"  
"Sunday," Ron whispered. "It was just an argument and it got out of hand."  
"Did _all_ of your arguments get out of hand?" Charlie demanded.

Ron looked away, his silence answering for him.

Charlie finally released his hair and felt guilty that, as he put his hand to his face to rub it in disbelief, a few strands of red tickled his nose.

"What's that?" Ron frowned, and locked his fingers around Charlie's forearm. "New tattoo?"  
"Oh, that..." Charlie stared down at the italic script. "Bit of a joke with the others... they told me they didn't know anyone whose heart was so frequently aired on their sleeve..."

Charlie read the ornate script which ran up the outside of his wrist and onto his hand, towards his little finger.

_Heart on my sleeve._

Ron's blue eyes widened slightly as they took in the words, and he briefly looked up at Charlie, hurt. His gaze returned to the ink and then Ron turned his arm so that he looked at his wrist. A calloused thumb began to trace the blue veins which thumped with blood beneath his flesh.

"I don't like it," Ron said simply, before he pulled the wrist to his mouth, and placed a damp, sucking kiss over the veins he had been thumbing just seconds before.  
"I don't like those bruises on your chest. Or that another man chose to beat up my baby brother."  
"They'll fade," Ron murmured, and before Charlie could respond, his mouth had been covered with Ron's and a foreign tongue was stroking against his own.

As they stood there and kissed, it was hard to miss the desperation pouring out of Ron's body. His fingers grasped more tightly than Charlie had ever known them to grasp. His breath was rough and laboured. His cheeks were flushed. He pushed back with surprising strength against Charlie's stockier form. When his hands crept to Charlie's hair, they were almost spiteful in the way they curled into the rouge, tugging until Charlie moaned into his mouth.

The tension heightened between them with every slow movement of their jaws and each moan that they made. Charlie felt Ron still shivering beneath his own grip and pulled back, looking at him. His eyes were oddly bright, and he simply couldn't acknowledge that they might have been so with moisture,

"Stop," he breathed, reaching up to tug Ron's hands away from his hair. "You're knackered. You need to go to bed and sleep off the journey. And then when you wake up and you've eaten, we can... talk. Pick up where we're leaving off. But not now."

He smiled sadly at Ron, whose chin tucked into his chest.

"It's for your own good."  
"I know."  
"I'll come with you. Afternoon siesta always cheers me up. Even more when there's somebody else warming the bed."

Ron didn't even smile at his joke and Charlie gently pushed him towards the door. "Want to shower first? Cup of tea?"  
"Bed," Ron mumbled, tripping over his own feet.

Somehow, Charlie managed to guide him to his bedroom, which was even smaller than the living room, without his brother falling flat on his face. He unbuttoned Ron's jeans and slid them down, growing angry to see that the bruises also trailed down his legs.

"When you're awake," Charlie muttered, summoning an old t-shirt and pyjama bottoms of his own, "You're going to tell me exactly what this fucker did to you and then I'm going to go home and hex his bollocks off."  
"Shut up," Ron begged, allowing Charlie to throw the t-shirt over his head, which fell in tent-like proportions around his skinny body.

Charlie helped him into the bottoms and then pulled back the bed cover, which he had only just remembered to make that morning on his way out of the door. He guided Ron to sitting and then pushed him back on the pillows.

"This is really pathetic, isn't it?" Ron asked blandly.  
"You're hurt." Charlie shrugged and pulled the curtains shut with magic. He tucked Ron in carefully, patting the covers in around his legs and his hips.

When he was sure that no draft could creep in and chill his already cold guest, he swung his leg over and laid down on Ron's other side. He wasted no time on pretences; he wrapped his arms around Ron's top half, pulled him close, and began to rock him slightly.

"This is really weird, isn't it?"

Charlie kissed his hair and didn't answer.

"I've never been this intimate with anyone else. And it's just weird."  
"What we're doing, or that it's me?" Charlie asked.  
"Both."  
"Well, people do weird things when they're alone with the ones they love. And that it's me... well. Yeah. That's weird and fucked up and strange, but you're here now, and nobody gives a damn what goes on behind my closed front door. And thank Merlin, because they'd throw me out if they knew."  
"So you've been sharing that heart with people then?" Ron asked darkly.  
"Why don't you stop thinking and go to sleep, eh?" Charlie suggested, realising how tired he was himself. He'd been up since six.

"Thanks for letting me come to stay, Charlie."  
"No problem."  
"Charlie?"  
"Mm?"  
"I'm not going home."

Charlie stared at the wall and thought about the implications of Ron's announcement.

"And you can't make me."

After the childish statement, there was a light snore, and Charlie released a breath of relief when Ron's body relaxed with sleep, and he was alone.

***

"Mm, nice."

Charlie moaned in his sleep and tried to roll over, but when his body slammed into another, he realised that the sucking and biting at his neck was not part of his dream, but his reality. Blearily he cracked open one eye and found the room dark. Ron's weight was layered over his.

"What're you doing?" he whispered, breath hitching as a damp tongue laved over the notoriously sweet spot beneath his right ear.  
"Waking you up," Ron answered calmly, before capturing an earlobe between his teeth and pulling with it.

Cock springing to life, Charlie was unable to resist putting his hands to Ron's hips and lifting him up, stretching out his own body in the brief respite from the weight. He growled for extra effect and earned himself a laugh from his brother.

"Haven't been woken up like that in a while." Charlie grinned into the side of Ron's neck and pressed a kiss there. "You've gotten bitey in your old age..."  
"Well, I learnt from the best..." Ron murmured, and then clamped his teeth tightly into the muscled join between Charlie's throat and shoulder.

He shuddered as Ron's jaws didn't loosen and straight teeth continued to cut into his skin. Ron began to suck.

"Marking?" Charlie moaned in question, tipping his head back onto the pillow. "Really?"

Ron moved on to another site and dug in again, applying more force. His previous site throbbed deliciously as the cool bedroom air hit it.

"Taste good." Ron gasped against his skin and moved on yet again, sucking in the hollow of Charlie's throat.  
"Trying to make me blow through that alone?" he asked, bemusedly.  
"Would it work?"  
"What do you think?" Charlie rolled his hips.

Ron laughed again and ground forward with his own, pressing their bodies together for friction which only ever seemed as good between them, and never with other partners. Charlie fell into a rhythm with Ron as he began to rock his body up and down, all the while continuing to suck damp, toothy bites onto his neck.

"Be fair." Charlie wormed one hand down the back of Ron's loaned pyjama bottoms. He groped one buttock and then squeezed it, hard. "Let me have a bit of neck of my own, eh?"  
"Nope," Ron answered sloppily. "Mine."

Placing his other hand on Ron's back and holding him in place, Charlie didn't argue. He simply closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensations on his neck and of Ron covering his entire body, rubbing together much more than their covered erections, but their bellies, chests, thighs and toes. A soft foot stroked along the inside of his ankle and Charlie lifted his leg to trap Ron's in place.

"Mine," he growled smugly.

Ron's fingers laced into his hair and pulled him until his mouth was close enough to kiss. Only it only took seconds for Charlie's lower lip to be captured in a sharp bite. It began to throb as Ron held it between his teeth and pulled. When it was eventually released, Charlie relished the pain and clung on hard to Ron, kissing him again in hope of a repeat performance.

Their tension was reaching a peak and, careful not to let the rhythm grow tedious, Charlie swung all his strength to the right and rolled Ron onto his back. He immediately pinned the thinner redhead down and began to hump against him in earnest, whilst lowering his face to suck at Ron's neck as payback. The delighted moans were all he had wanted to hear before he let it end.

He suckled on the end of Ron's tongue and captured his hands, dragging them up and pinning them into the pillows. Bucking against him, Charlie released the soft muscle and watched as Ron's head tipped back. Even in the dark he was sweetly handsome, and when he filled in the bright eyes and flushed cheeks he knew were present but disguised by the dark, his belly pulled and his balls tightened.

"You there?" he grunted.  
"Mmmmhmmm," Ron hummed.

Charlie granted him an open mouthed kiss and grunted with pleasure as he reached completion, remaining lip to lip with his brother as they both panted through their orgasms. Falling forward, he let his forehead fall against Ron's lips and let him kiss there.

Neither of them said anything as they lay there together, panting over one another's faces and feeling each other's slowing heartbeats.

"What time is it?" Charlie muttered finally, tasting the dryness of his mouth.  
"Think it's about nine at night... or that's what your clock says."

Charlie lifted his head and saw the glowing clock face he'd charmed to be visible in the dark.

"We've wasted half the day." He flopped onto his back and rubbed at his eyes.  
"Not wasted. I feel human again now," Ron said.  
"Human enough to want a drink and a smoke after that?"  
"If you've got some."

Charlie pushed himself upright and groped for his wand on the bedside cabinet. He put flames to the candles and Ron moaned in pain with the sudden light.

"Well, you still look like shit," Charlie commented, looking down at him. "But at least now you look sort-of-shagged shit..."

Ron snorted and flung his arm up to cover his eyes. Charlie summoned a bottle of ţuică and his cigarettes. He chucked the latter at Ron and worked the top off the bottle, putting it to his lips and rinsing his mouth out with the ridiculously strong spirit.

Lighting up next to him, Ron propped himself up on one elbow.

"What's that?"  
"A little drink here we call ţuică... or plum brandy, to you."  
"Can I?"  
"I don't know, are you of age?" Charlie asked playfully, narrowing his eyes.  
"Unfortunately so." Ron grinned behind his cigarette.  
"Mum know you do that yet?"  
"What do you think?"

Charlie shrugged and sipped at the bottle again. "Just like I bet she doesn't know your last boyfriend beat you up and you've run away to Romania."  
"Can we make it sound a bit more... less wimpy?" Ron finished lamely.  
"There's nothing wrong with running away sometimes. Sometimes, that's better than staying and suffering. Especially in your case. Are you sure I can't go and turn his face to mince?"  
"Not worth the bruised knuckles."  
"I just can't make sense of it. You're you and you're strong and manly... I don't see how this can have happened."  
"I tried fighting." Ron's voice heightened with shame. "I did... he was just... stronger."

Charlie looked to his left and saw Ron's eyelashes so low that they were nearly on his cheeks.

"Why didn't you come to me sooner? Or anyone? Or get out of it?"  
"Because I thought I had something more with him."  
"Who was it, Ron?"  
"Someone at work," he answered.

Ron's tone was dull and, though it hurt Charlie to hear, lonely.

"Alright. Sorry. I'll stop talking about him."  
"Thank you."  
"But when Mum comes yelling, you have to tell her."  
"Whatever you want me to do."  
"And you've got to tell her that you're staying here."  
"Okay."  
"What about the Aurors, did you hand in your notice or did you just head for the hills?"  
"I handed in my notice."  
"Good. You've got to tell Harry, too."  
"When I feel up to it."  
"And you've got to share that cigarette."  
"Fine."

Ron thrust it right and took the bottle in recompense.

They enjoyed their exchange happily for a moment and Charlie slumped back against the headboard of the bed.

"Why did you let him do it?" Charlie couldn't keep the question in.  
"It wasn't conscious... just... didn't have my wand and he came at me too quick. I thought I had a temper... thought you had a temper... but he took the biscuit. I fought back but he always had stronger fists."  
"I want to kill him," Charlie said simply.  
"All you'd have to do is tell him he's got a tiny dick and he'd do it himself."

Charlie crooked his little finger in the hope of making Ron smile. It worked.

"Thereabouts."  
"I don't even want to think about it."  
"I'm hungry," Ron said suddenly. "Can we break into what Mum sent?"  
"If you want. I'm not fussed."

Ron led the way out of the bedroom into the sitting room where he dived into his rucksack. It had been magically enlarged on the inside and he pulled out several plastic boxes and piled them up on the floor. His clothes followed next. He tapped his wand at them to send them into the bedroom, but the clothes stayed put on the floor.

Charlie watched closely and saw frown lines on Ron's forehead. The wand waved again and the clothes stirred, but didn't lift from the floor.

"Your magic is tired," he said finally, leaning against the doorframe. "From the relationship, or the travel... or everything. The guard mentioned it to me. You're not to go round the pens, as he said."

Ron didn't look up at him.

"Everyone gets tired in a while, Ron. Everyone has to take a step back and give the wand a rest."

When there was still no answer, Charlie inwardly sighed and doubled back, heading for the kitchen. He set down the plum brandy and reached for the kettle instead, feeling as though the alcohol might be more of a curse than a blessing. He stood at the sink and filled it with water, looking out at the trees directly behind the cabin.

"New scar?" Ron's sudden speech made him slop water everywhere.

A fingertip traced along the neckline of his t-shirt, following what Charlie knew was a shiny, pink burn.

"Yeah. My hair caught fire and everything. Was pretty spectacular."

Despite the fact that his own lips were stinging from overuse, Charlie felt Ron kissing along the just-healed wound.

"I love your scars," Ron said quietly.  
"If you stay here, you're likely to get some of your own. It's not a hotel and if you want to stay a long time, they'll expect you to work for it."  
"I'm no good with animals..."  
"Well we have other things to do. You're not bad in a garden, or with your spell work. We could use someone like you monitoring our protective spells."  
"Once my magic is right again," Ron said bitterly.

"Well... magic can be a bit like wound scars... ugly when it's healing, but when it does, you're stronger, a bit wilier... and you learn your lesson."  
"Normal people learn their lesson... you're just a lunatic."  
"Lunatics aside," Charlie granted.

Ron looked down at his feet. "Do you mind me staying? Don't feel you have to say yes because you're my brother."

Charlie didn't know how to express what he felt in words.

"I'll have to dump my boyfriend," he said finally, turning back to the kettle.  
"You don't have to do that. I can get out of the way when you want to bring him back."  
"I'm not going to flaunt another man under your nose, that would be... mean," he finished lamely.  
"Well I can't ever be your boyfriend, so why deprive yourself of what you can have?"

"That's the one thing about living in the middle of nowhere." Charlie lowered his voice. "Nobody cares who you're shagging, as long as it's human."  
"I won't be here forever... don't cut everything off for now just because I am at the minute."  
"Deep, Ron. Want to talk about the meaning of life?"  
"Shut up," Ron muttered, turning and stalking to the other side of the kitchen which, with his long legs, was about three steps in total.

"The further we get away from the reserve, we're just two nameless faces in a sea of people we don't know. We don't look alike. We're just two redheads with freckles. We could be brothers, but we could also just be egotistical and find our own appearances attractive." Charlie shrugged. "The thing is, this... thing, if you want to call it that, has been going on for too long now to just die. And when you show up on my doorstep in your state, I'm not going to let you go until I'm happy that you're happy. Understood?"

Ron said nothing.

"And if you're never happy..."

Charlie sighed and looked out of the back window.

"I suppose you'll just have to stay here with me forever then, won't you?"  
"I won't," Ron assured him.

Charlie hated to admit that he hoped that Ron was lying.

"Do you ever wish we'd not started this?" Ron asked.  
"I don't have regrets," Charlie said firmly. "I make it a firm point not to regret anything I do -stupid or not."  
"And was sleeping with me stupid?"  
"Probably."  
"And Mum always said you were one of the clever ones."  
"Until she saw my Potions results. Anyway. So. You're staying. Happy?"  
"S'pose."  
"Going to give me any more grief about it?"  
"S'pose not."  
"Are you aware that I'm a horrendous flirt and more often than not touch inappropriately in embarrassingly public places?"  
"Are you forgetting there I was also there at Percy and Audrey's wedding last year?" Ron gaped. "When you nearly brought me off at the head table?"  
"Oh yeah." Charlie stared at the wall and grinned. "Good night. Lot of champagne. Don't really remember the end of it, to be honest, but know I ended up in you."

Ron laughed and shook his head.

"What are we doing?" he asked finally.  
"Cross that bridge when we come to it," Charlie said. "Don't think now. Just enjoy it. And try and heal, eh?"

There was no immediate acquiescence from Ron, but as he turned back to the kettle, Charlie thought he saw a little lightness in his brother's eyes, and that was enough, for the moment.

_-fin-_   



End file.
